


Do You Believe in Happy Endings

by TheLadyBath



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, police drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyBath/pseuds/TheLadyBath
Summary: Once, they both walked away from what might have been. Years later they are thrown together again. Will they give it a second chance or are they both too damaged? Throw in murderous criminals and the rest of the CSI: NY family and this is hopefully the start of an adventure.





	1. Chapter 1

September 10, 2001

They were sitting on the roof, enjoying the warmth of the last gasps of the summer. He turned to her, taking her hand and getting on his knee. Her hand flew to her mouth and tears came to her eyes. He slipped a box from his pocket and opening it, slipped a ring on her finger. "Will you marry me," he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

"Yes. Oh yes," she gasped as he bent down for a kiss.

The next morning, he got up, put on his uniform and ran toward the danger while hundreds of others ran the other way. He died somewhere between the thirty fifth and fortieth floors of World Trade Center One.

She grieved over a grave containing the few remains that could be found and identified and his mother received the folded flag.

September 11, 2002

It was a bad idea from start to finish; her brain was throwing up all sorts of red flags. She had a rule against one night stands and an even stronger one against getting involved with a cop, but tonight, for once, she opted to give in to her heart and her body. She reveled in being in his strong arms; it had been so long for both of them. They tore at each others' clothing and fell into bed in a tangle of limbs and blankets. Their passion was intensified by the fact that both knew, even if neither acknowledged it, that it would all come to an end once the sun rose.

September 12, 2002

He was still sleeping, dark hair mussed on the pillow and the blanket just reaching to his chest. She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her and looked at him again marveling at how handsome he was with his dark hair, strong features and sensitive lips. And his eyes...oh Dear God, when those blue eyes looked at her... She rose quietly and dressed not wanting to wake him. Saying good bye would be...complicated and it would be easier to just leave. She enjoyed herself tremendously – truth is, she thought, they both did, but now it was time to go back to real life.

She dressed quietly so as not to wake him up. A part of her wanted to stay, to wake him up, to have him make love to her again, but this time her brain overrode her desires. She looked at the man again and smiled gently...if things had been different...maybe. But things weren't different she knew as she dressed and gathered up her things. It was wonderful while it lasted, but now it was time to go back to the real world.

He lay in bed pretending to sleep and to be unaware of the fact that she had gotten up and was dressing. Through slitted eyes he watched her enjoying the grace of her movements as much as the beauty of her face and body. While he certainly was no stranger to lust and desire, taking a woman home and into his bed after barely having had the chance to say hello was not something that he did often – in fact, this was the first time in many years. It felt so good to hold her, to make love to her and to hear her call his name. He debated opening his eyes and asking her to stay, but quickly decided against it. He was not ready to become involved with anybody; it would be so much easier if what they shared was just a lovely memory with no further entanglements. He continued to pretend to be asleep as she stood up, gathered her purse, opened the door and quietly shut it behind her.

March 7, 2007

They felt the after shocks of the explosion at the Queen of Mercy Hospital; lights swayed, gurneys and wheelchairs shifted where they stood. The call went out throughout the hospital calling all the doctors and residents to prepare for the influx of casualties. They had drills for event like this and they were ready when the injuries started to pour in.

Cassandra, Cass, Allen, a woman in her early thirties, with her caramel hair pulled back into a pony tail and nd wearing green scrubs, that somehow matched the bright green of her eyes, was doing triage in the trauma center. Burns were sent to one side, crush injuries to another. She was calm and competent and oddly comforted by both the routine and the fact that the injuries, while bad, were not devastating. The word around the hospital was that there were cops in the building and they were able to mostly evacuate the building and move people to safety.

That's when she felt the buzzing of her work phone indicating that a trauma case was coming in. A man in his mid thirties was pulled from the building suffering from a sucking chest wound. He had lost a lot of blood and was in shock. He was being airlifted and the chopper was a minute and a half out. As the head Trauma Resident, this was for Cass to take. Motioning for Melissa, the head Trauma nurse, to follow her, the she ran to the elevator.

They arrived at the helipad just as the chopper was landing. The door opened and Cass saw a familiar figure step out. Detective Mac Taylor had clearly been at or near the epicenter of the explosion; his hair was covered with dust, his clothing filthy and torn. He was wearing only a tee shirt and that was covered in blood. Cass eyes him critically looking for the injuries based on how he was moving. For a moment, their eyes met. Mac nodded his head slightly at the question he saw; he was OK. Cass let out a small sigh of relief – once again her brother managed to be in the thick of things and yet avoid serious injury.

The paramedics opened the chopper and lifted out the gurney. Mac helped lift the gurney. When Cass ran forward to examine the injuries, the extent of the damage almost took her breath away; the fact that this man was still alive was close to a miracle. "This is Detective Don Flack," Mac ran along side the medical team. There was something in his face that made Cass look over. "He's a friend," Mac concluded, his tone and the look on his face saying everything he was not putting into words.

Cass understood. "Let's go," she said, all business. But there was something…something about the name. It tickled the back of her mind…a memory she could not quite recall. She pushed the distracting thoughts back behind her wall of professionalism as she focused on keeping the man alive.

Cass and her team worked intently, but calmly. They checked his vitals, inserted IVs and fought with all her strength to stabilize him. The injury was horrendous; the debris had literally torn the man's chest open. His blood pressure was tanking and he was in deep shock. "Stay with me, Don," she muttered. "Stay with me."

Working to stem the bleeding and stabilize the detective enough to get him to surgery was taking all her focus. Then she noticed it; she understood why the man was not dead as, by all rights he should have been. Somebody had found the severed artery and tied it off. She knew who that somebody had to be…"Mac," she smiled slightly; for all the efforts she was now putting forth, it was his quick action that would save his friend.

Glancing at his face, Cass experienced a strange sense of déjà vu - did she know him? Had she seen him before?

All of a sudden the heart monitors began to scream. "We're losing him," one of the nurses called out. "Not on my watch," Cass growled. She would be damned if she lost a cop. "Get me the paddles." It took three tries and a lot of praying, but they were able to get the heart going again. "Call the OR. He's going up now," Cass ordered. The nurse nodded reaching for the phone as Cass and several others pulled and pushed the gurney out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Cass watched the operating room doors close behind the gurney; she had done all that she could to ensure that her patient made it to the OR with the best chance to survive the surgery. The rest was up to the surgeon. Detective Flack would remain her patient after the surgery, but for now, there was nothing else she could do; she loved what she did, but hated this helplessness. Early on, she had considered becoming a trauma surgeon, but when she realize that her contact with the patients would be severely curtailed, she, instead opted to work in Trauma Center and then "hand them off" to others. In exchange, she would watch their recovery...if they made it through the surgery.

Whether it was just an automatic response or some sort of superstitious action, she patted the closed doors before she turned away to walk to the waiting room; she was certain that there would be friends and family anxious for word.

She looked down at her scrubs, realizing that she was covered in blood and took a detour by the supply closet to pick up a new shirt. She stopped by the bathroom to wash her hands and face and to pull her pony tail tighter.

He had been watching for her unsure if her delay was good or bad news for Flack. When the doors finally opened, he caught himself breathing a sigh of relief.

Cass looked around. In addition to Mac, she saw a pretty woman with dark curly hair, a younger man and another woman not much older than her. All the people rose to look at her expectantly. "My name is Dr. Allen," she started, "and I am a Trauma Resident here. I am the one who took care of Detective Flack when he was brought in." She took a deep breath – now the hard part. "He suffered what is known as a Catastrophic Traumatic Injury," she started. "He lost a great deal of blood just getting to the hospital. However, we were able to stabilize him enough to get him into surgery."

"What are his chances," asked the younger man, standing up.

"Dr. Perkins is the best Cardio Thoracic surgeon in New York," Cass answered. She hated that she could not provide any assurances, but there were none to give; she had seen many injuries in her time working in trauma centers, and the young detectives were some of the worst. A thought crossed her mind…something that would perhaps provide some comfort.

"What I can say is that it is a miracle that Detective Flack made it to the hospital at all. He had a torn artery and would have bled out in minutes if it was not for M…..," she stopped herself, "not for Detective Taylor." At that moment, something clicked in her brain, something that she had not realized because she had been so focused on her patient. Without the intervention, Detective Flack would have been dead within a minute or two which meant that Mac got to him within moments of the explosion. "Oh God," she whispered, looking at Mac as the reality of what must have happened hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh my God."

Everybody in the waiting room was looking at her confused and there was real concern in Mac's eyes. Cass tried to explain. "In order for any aid to have made a difference to Detective Flack, the artery would have to have been tied off within a minute…max two minutes after the injury occurred. Nobody would have been able to reach him that quickly, which means that…," she broke off, again looking at Mac. "Mac," she whispered, "you…you were there...inside the building.."

Mac saw the near panic behind the green eyes. He knew that Cass rarely panicked except where people she cared about were concerned. After all these years, he knew the signs, he stepped forward, and reached for her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. "Its OK, Cass," he whispered gently, stroking her back with his other hand feeling her shake. "Its OK. I'm fine. I'm OK. Its all OK."

Cass took a deep breath and pulled away from Mac, feeling her face burning with embarrassment. She was a professional, damn it, but when it came to Mac, she worried. She was always afraid that she could lose him like she had lost…

Her thoughts were interrupted. "Would you like to share with the rest of the class," Danny Messer asked, his concern for his injured friend making the question sharper than he had intended.

She pulled completely away from Mac and tried to regain composure by again pulling on her pony tail and tucking in any errant hairs. She looked over at Mac and was a little surprised by the slight smile that played on his lips. "This was not how I had intended to do this," he started to say, "but I want to introduce you to my younger sister, Cassandra Allen."

There was a stunned silence that only added to Cass's embarrassment. "Its just Cass," she said quietly.

Mac quickly did introductions. The beautiful woman with the curly hair stepped forward to shake hands. Mac continued as he looked at the younger couple standing close together, "Detectives Lindsay and Danny Messer."

Lindsay came over first to shake Cass's hand, "Thank you," she said. She clearly wanted to say more, but was clearly overcome with emotion and her husband came up to her and reached out a hand to Cass while at the same time, pulling Linsday into a one-armed embrace.

Mac started to explain. "My dad married later in life and my mom was much younger," Mac began, his eyes unfocused, as if he was looking backward. "I was born when my dad was in his forties. Cass was what you would call, a surprise," Mac smiled warmly down at the younger woman by his side.

Cass took over the story. "I was only eleven when Dad passed away. My mom eventually met and married a wonderful man named Philip Allen and they officially adopted me so Itook his name."

"You've been holding out on us, Mac," Danny said. "Why is this the first that we've heard of her."

"Not intentionally," Mac demurred.

"Although Mac is older," Cass said with a slightly wicked smile and a sidelong glance at her brother, "we were really close growing up. As Dad got sicker and sicker, Mac really took over that role."

Mac spoke, "I joined the Marines and went to Iraq and Cass grew up and went away to medical school. After 9-11," Mac paused to take a breath as just mentioning that time was still painful. "After 9-11, Cass decided to focus on trauma. About six months ago, she was offered the position here," Mac's eyes swept the waiting room. "Her schedule," he stopped with a small wry smile," well both of our schedules... have been so busy that we've only been able to have dinner together a couple of times."

Danny was pacing, not able to contain his concern any longer. Lindsay walked up and wrapped her arms around her husband. "If she''s here, that means that she is the best. It means that Don could not be in better hands, right Mac?" She looked at her boss for support.

"Yes," Mac said. "Yes it does," Mac said with conviction.


	3. Chapter 3

Cass's phone intruded. She checked the message. "I have a case coming," she said hurriedly. "I will come back and update you on Detect...," she stopped, "...on how Don is doing as soon as I hear anything." Cass walked out of the waiting room, her heart and head both awash in a myriad of thoughts and emotions. She still had the uncanny feeling that she knew the man in surgery, but could not pull from her memory how or where. Cass always worried about her patients, but usually it was in a detached, philosophical way. For some reason, her concern for the Detective went deeper and pulled at her heart and she found herself saying a quick prayer for his recovery.

The next few hours were busy for Cass, as case after case came into the trauma center and forcing her to push all thoughts of Don Flack, the team and even her brother to the back of her mind as she focused on the immediate need of her other patients.

She was in the locker room, washing her hands and face after changing into clean scrubs for what felt like the tenth time that day and her phone vibrated again. This was the message for which she had been waiting; the one that informed her that Don Flack had survived surgery and was being transferred to the ICU. It would be Cass's responsibility to ensure the paperwork as well as ongoing care for the patient post surgery. Cass met the gurney at the doors of one of the few private ICU rooms and was surprised to see Mac following his friend carrying his camera. He stood back while Flack was transferred into a bad and all life support equipment was attached. The nurse handed Cass the file along with the surgeon's notes and orders.

While she was waiting, Cass skimmed the information. Her eyebrows inched upward as she read. There had been a special request made by the Crime Lab to photograph Detective Flack's injuries prior to having them bandages. Since the surgeon had another procedure, the duty fell to her; this was unusual, but by no means completely unheard of. She nodded to herself.

Cass focused on completing the intake paperwork as well as the doctors' notes while Mac, a large digital camera in hand, photographed Don's wounds from every angle. "What do you hope to learn with these photographs," she asked.

Not stopping work, Mac said, "I don't know. Maybe something about the angle of the explosion or the pattern of the shrapnel will tell us something useful." He continued working, stopping every once in a while to just look at the pattern of injuries on the younger man's body. "At the very least," Mac said, his voice so hard and cold that Cass looked up from her work, "At the very least, I will document the injuries so that when...," he paused and Cass saw his eyes harden into agates, "...when," he emphasized the word again, " we bring this son of a bitch in, the jury will have clear evidence of what he did. I will make sure that he pays." Cass knew that look and that tone and she had no doubt of the outcome of the investigation; Mac would find the person responsible and, one way or another, he would be brought to justice.

When Mac was wrapping up, Cass turned to the supply drawers to load up the tray with what she would need to bandage the injuries. She was not completely certain, but she could have sworn that she heard Mac speak very softly. "Hang in there, Don," she heard Mac whisper, "I'll get you through this, I swear." Cass bit her lip. Mac had never been the emotional type. What she heard in her brother's voice, indicated how much he cared for the man on the table and spoke volumes about Don's character.

"Who are you," Cass wondered again as she started applying the bandages.

Cass cleared her throat and waited a moment before turning around to give Mac time. By the time she wheeled the supply tray to the table Mac was standing back, packing away the camera. When he stood, he took a moment to observe his younger sister. As long as Mac could remember, Cassandra had wanted to be a doctor, watching her now Mac clearly saw her God given gifts. Something caught Mac's attention...something that tickled the back of his brain...something in Cass's body language as she bent over the injured detective. Mac searched for a word that fit what he was seeing...or at least what he thought he was seeing..."Tenderness," the word exploded into his consciousness; Cass was always compassionate, but the care that she was taking seemed to be somehow...somehow...more. For a moment, Mac thought to ask, but that moment passed. Stepping close, he placed a quick kiss on her forehead. "Dinner. Soon." Cass nodded and Mac walked out.

She had finished applying the bandages and checked the IVs and the monitors. When everything seemed to be in order, she reached for his chart to make some final notes.

The ICU Nurse, her name tag said, Christine, came and stood by the bed. She reviewed the notes to make sure she had no questions. Cass quickly ran through what she had done and what could be expected over the next few hours.

Christine nodded her understanding. "We will take very good care of," she checked the name on the file, "of Officer Don Flack."

"Officer Don Flack." Cass stopped cold. "Officer...Don...Flack." She looked over at Christine. "I'm sorry...what?"

Christine looked at the notes again and grinned apologetically, "I'm sorry. Detective Flack. We will take very good care of Detective Flack." Given the number of first responders that made their way through Queen of Mercy, the staff was generally very careful to use proper names, ranks and titles as a sign of respect. Christine took Cass's question as an admonition and Cass smiled and shook her head to assure the nurse that she had not meant it as such. Her heart was racing as she looked at Don's face and, finally, knew why the man on the bed...her patient... looked so achingly familiar.

September 11, 2002

The bar, frequented by cops – full to capacity with uniformed and plain clothed officers and detectives. All there to toast to friends who they would never see again. Cass knew this place. Jim had told her about it.

Drinking a toast to him seemed fitting. She somehow made it to the bar and, more miraculously, found a seat. She ordered a bourbon on the rocks – Jim's drink. Staring at the amber liquid, she reached for the glass, now beaded with sweat. She took a drink and felt the liquid burn its way down her throat; it hurt much less than her heart. "God, Jim," she thought. "Why? Why did this happen? I miss you so much." She took another sip. "To you, Love," she thought as she lifted the glass to salute the ghost.

"Is this seat taken?" The question took her by surprise and she looked up into a pair of the bluest eyes that she had ever seen. Cass looked confused as there were no seats at all and realized that the man...he was a cop in uniform... was smiling. "Drinking alone or can anyone join?" The question was meant to be funny, but she realized that his eyes were serious...sad even.

"Toasting...," Cass hesitated...," toasting the memory of a friend" she said finally.

The cop brought a beer bottle up and touched it to her glass. "To the memory of friends," he said solemnly. Cass looked up again. "I'm Don. Don Flack," the cop said, reaching out a hand.

"Officer Don Flack," Cass said, "I'm Cassie Allen,". Strange, she did not normally warm up to people, but there was something about this young police officer – maybe a few years older than her. They drank in silence for a few minutes. Cass didn't understand it, but his presence comforted her like nothing had since the day Jim died.

Don had seen her the moment he had entered the bar; he would have had to be blind to have missed her. Sitting at the bar in a light yellow sweater and faded jeans, she was in total contrast to the blue uniforms and dark suits. But what caught his eye and pulled at his heart was how small she looked – how fragile and sad. As raw and hurt as he still was, he could not help himself and next he knew he was standing over her.

"Want to get outta here," Don asked, trying to focus on the woman in front of him instead of his feelings.

Cass shook her head. "I don't normally...," she did not finish her thought.

"Hey...its just pizza," Flack said with his best smile. "I know the best pizza in all of Manhattan, he said." Don reached out his hand and, surprising herself, Cass took it. Don lead her out of the crowded bar and into the street and the fading light. Don did not let go of Cass's hand and she let him continue holding it as he led her through the crowd.

The restaurant was in back street and so nondescript, Cass would never have seen it. However, Don was right, the pizza was delicious and the beer was cold. As they ate, they talked about themselves; Don was a third-generation cop who had lost friends in both the Police and Fire Departments a year ago. Cass saw how his eyes clouded with grief when he talked about them. Cass continued to refer to Jim as a "friend" not willing to share anything more intimate. And yet...she felt something...something she had not felt for a long time and what was more disconcerting, looking at the young officer, she was fairly certain he was feeling it too.

The evening was cool when they stepped outside after finishing their meal. "I'd better get going," she said, surprised at the sound of regret in her voice. They were walking side by side when Cass, inadvertently, put her foot on a broken grate. As she started to fall forward, Cass cried out and reached for Don who turned and grabbed her to keep her from falling. Lifting her slightly so she could pull her foot out, Don set her down, but did not release her. Breathless, Cass looked up into Don's eyes. Their proximity was intoxicating. Blood pounded in her years as her heart raced and her breath hitched in her chest. Don lowered his head and his lips claimed hers.

The electricity between them was palpable and the kiss deepened. Don pulled Cass closer against him and she tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Every neuron in Cass's brain was screaming out to stop and every nerve in her body wanted the kiss to continue. When they finally broke apart they were both breathing quickly. "I don't date cops," Cass managed to whisper, feeling stupid the moment the words were out of her mouth.

"I am not looking for a date," he whispered, his voice low and husky and his breath hot against her neck. Cass felt blood rush to her face. One look into his eyes and she was lost. She nodded breathlessly.

Wordlessly, Don stepped out and signaled for a cab. Don gave the cabbie his address. In the traffic, the drive took almost forty minutes. Don and Cass sat side by side, their legs touching, the heat between them driving their need for each other. When the cab stopped, Don gave the driver a fifty and did not wait for change. He helped Cass out and led her up the stairs.

Opening the door to his apartment, Don let Cass in and stepped in after her. Cass was torn; she did not do things like this not ever. This was a bad idea, she knew and yet , this was exactly where she wanted to be and exactly what she wanted to be doing right at that point. It had been a hellish, lonely year and she admitted to herself that she was desperate to feel again.

Don looked at the woman standing in his apartment and could not believe what he was doing. HE came from a long line of Irish Catholic cops and he knew exactly what his mother and Sister Patrice, his high school principal would say. At the moment, he did not give a damn. He wanted...no...he needed this woman more than he had needed anything in a very long time. Slowly and carefully he removed his gun belt and stowed it safely. He placed his hat on the counter and then opened his arms; Cass came to him willingly.

He kissed her and this time it was a hard, possessive kiss making her moan into his mouth. He broke the embrace just long enough to remove her sweater. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it back off his shoulders. They made their way to the bedroom leaving a trail of clothes through Don's living room and hall way. Don picked up Cass and lowered her gently onto the bed. He covered her body with his and kissed her passionately. Cass's nails raked Don's back as feelings and emotions she had buried with Jim returned. They made love slowly at first, but their passion spurred them on. Cass moaned and arched her body under Don's weight crying out as she reached climax. Don continued to move until he too felt his release; as his body shook with pleasure, he buried his face in Cass's sweet smelling hair, "Cassie," he whispered, "Cassie."

After their love making, they lay facing each other. They did not speak a there was nothing to say. Eventually Don reached out for her again. His fingers tangled in her hair at the back off her neck as he pulled her to him. Their kissing intensified and they made love again this time falling into an exhausted, satiated sleep.

On September 12, 2002, Cass woke up and looked at the man next to her. She knew she was supposed to feel guilty, but all she felt was wistful and a little sad that there was no future. It was an amazing night – one that she would always remember, but she knew that there was no future. She reached to touch Don's face, but pulled back not wanting to wake him.

Don felt her get out of bed. He wanted to pull her back ad to make love to her again, but he could not bring himself to reach out. He pretended to be asleep as he watched her get ready. "Please don't go," his mind cried out, but his heart wasn't ready. With a feeling like a part of him was being torn away, he watched Cass walk out his door.


	4. Chapter 4

Cass remained lost in her memories for a few more minutes until a quiet clearing of the throat interrupted. She jumped a little and saw an orderly waiting by the door.

"Is the patient ready?" he asked.

Shaking her head to clear it, Cass went to work. "Just give me a few minutes to finish up," she said over her shoulder as she worked to apply the dressings to all the still raw stitches. Again her heart clenched in sympathy at the level of damage this young detective had suffered. "You'll be OK, Don," she whispered almost to herself, unconsciously echoing her brother's words. Within ten minutes, she was finished and had moved aside to permit the orderly to push the gurney out of the Recovery Room.

"He'll be in Room 12 in the ICU," the orderly told her, referring to the Intensive Care Unit which was reserved for the most critical patients. Cass nodded, bending over the counter to complete the paperwork. Putting the records into the correct slot for pick up by the administrative staff, she stood up, straightened her scrubs patted her hair and walked out to give Don's friends an update.

Mac had joined the rest of the team and they all anxiously waited for word. A few minutes later, Mac saw Cass walk down the hallway leading away from the Recovery Room; she was wearing what he always thought of as her "doctor's face".

Cass surveyed the assembled team. The fact that Don had so many people so concerned spoke volumes about the kind of man he was. But, Cass noted with some concern, everybody there was either a friend, a work colleague or both. Where was his family? Did he have relatives? Was there a wife or girlfriend? She made a note to ask Mac later…just to make sure that everybody who needed to know about Detective Flack had been notified, she told herself.

"Don is out of surgery and has been transferred to the ICU," she started and saw everybody relax slightly. Mac must have shared with them what he had seen when he took the photographs, but she knew that family and friends always wanted to hear it from the doctor. She continued, "His injuries were quite serious and he lost a lot of blood. He is still weak and the next several days will be crucial; if he makes it through the next 48 to 72 hours, I am hopeful that he would be on the road to making a full recovery." That really was the best that she could do. She remembered the extent of the injuries that she saw when Don first came in and when she had applied the bandages; she looked at the faces and knew that they wanted more; that they wanted reassurance and she hated that she could not give it.

"Can we see him?" Danny asked.

Cass permitted herself a tiny smile, "Yes. Once he is settled, a nurse will come and let you know. It will be one at a time and only for a few minutes, but yes. You can see him.' Cass reached for the buzzing in her pocket. She checked her phone. "I'm sorry. I need to go." She headed off, but stopped and turned, looking at the four Detectives. "I know that Detective Flack means a great deal to you, I promise that I will do my absolute best for him." With that she turned and walked quickly back into the Emergency Room leaving the team to wait for the nurse.

"When are you off tonight," Mac called after her.

Cass stopped and turned, smiling. "8:30."

"Dinner," Mac called out. "Your choice. I'll be here at 8:30."

"Scarpetta's," Cass called out as the ER doors opened and shut behind her.

At 8:30, Mac was sitting at the Nurse's station in the Emergency Room waiting for Cass. At 8:45, she walked down the hall; hair still wet from the shower, and dressed in jeans and a sweater. Mac stood up and handed her cup of coffee he had picked up at the Starbucks next to the hospital. "Figured, you could use this to get you through dinner," Mac said with a smile.

Cass sniffed appreciatively and took a sip. "Perfect," she said with a grateful smile. "And you remembered just how I like it."

"Five sugars and cream," Mac said. "How you can stand it being so sweet, I'll never understand," said the man who, as a Marine had gotten used to having his coffee black.

Cass, just smiled and sipped, enjoying their comfortable bantering.

"I'm starving she said

There were some advantages to being a cop, Mac mused as they stepped outside and right into his SUV which he had left by the entrance. "Scarpetta's?" he asked and Cass nodded.

Within thirty minutes they were at the restaurant and by 9:30 they were seated at a quiet table in the back of the restaurant enjoying glasses of red wine.

"Thank you," Mac said quietly. At the question expressed by Cass's raised eyebrows, he continued. "I know that every patient is important to you, but…," he paused. "Don…," he searched for words.

"I understand," Cass said quietly. "It's what I love about my job." She smiled and Mac smiled back as they touched their glasses.

Back Alley in Queens

The man was in the alley behind the store. He was leaning against the wall. It was cold and dark, but he was patient and he waited. He owed it to her to wait and get this right. He checked his watch by the light streaming in from the street. It should not be long now; the bodega closed at 10pm and it was 10:30, they should be taking the trash to the alley very soon now, he thought. Dressed in the painters' overalls and full of nervous energy, he was sweating even though the temperature was in the low 50s.

He heard the squeak of the back door and saw the light spill into the alley as the young woman carried out cardboard boxes – this batch had the picture of tomatoes. The man reached into his pocket feeling the cool comfortable weight of the semi-automatic pistol.

He was in the shadows, so the young woman did not see him. He moved quietly but quickly making sure that his rubber soled shoes made as little noise as possible. The alley was narrow and he was behind the young woman in several steps. Before she could react, he placed his hand on her mouth and held her against him. The woman struggled, but was no match for him as he reached for the gun in his pocket.

Scarpetta's

They were finishing their coffee and a shared Tiramisu when Mac's phone vibrated. Checking the number, Mac apologized. "I have to take this. I'm sorry." Cass nodded. Cops like doctors were always on call. Mac was listening intently and nodding. "Ok," he said. "Where?" He nodded again. "I'm with Cass. I'll drop her off and be there…," he checked his watch, "…by midnight."

Mac looked at Cass, "I'm sorry, but they found a murder victim. I need to go," he said signaling for the check. "I'll drop you at home."

Cass nodded. "I'll grab a cab tomorrow. Technically I'm off, but I want to check on D…," she stopped and Mac was almost certain he saw color creep up her cheeks, "…on my patients." she finished as Mac paid the bill and walked out with her to his SUV.

At 11:55 Mac's Avalanche pulled in behind the police cruisers in Queens. Getting his kit and nodding to the officers, he walked to the alley way. Danny was already there taking pictures with the help of police officers holding large work lights. "Doesn't Don live a block or two from here," he asked and Danny nodded, pointing.

In the center of the lights, was the body of a young woman. "This is Marisol Villega," Danny said as soon as he saw Mac. "Twenty nine years old. She worked the check out counter at the Bodega," he tossed his head toward the back door. "She also occasionally would deliver groceries to local residents."

Mac looked at the young woman. She was lying on her back, one arm over her head, the other one resting on her abdomen near what Mac knew was a gun shot wound. Her dark hair was spread out around her head and her legs were slightly bent. "What happened?"

Danny shrugged, "She went out to take the trash after the store closed, and didn't come back in. After a while the manager went back here to look for her and found….," he motioned with his hand. "Nobody heard a gun shot, but the train runs right above the store, so that's not too surprising." He stopped to think.

"Random mugging," Mac asked as he opened his kit to start collecting evidence.

"Nah," replied the younger man. "What little money she had in her wallet is still there as is her gold cross. Mac," Danny paused and then continued. "The manager told me that she has a kid…he's five."

Mac looked again at the young mother, who would never get the chance to see her son grow up. "Its ok, Marisol," Mac murmured, "we'll find out who did this to you."


End file.
